AROUND SEVEN AND EIGHT,
IN THE EVENING.
MISSION 031: MEETING THE QINN FAMILY.
Liam arrived quietly, just as he said he would.
A soft knock, deliberate and familiar. When I opened the door, he stood there holding a garment bag in one hand and a small case in the other, his expression relaxed but his eyes already scanning the room out of habit.
"You look like you're thinking too much," he said lightly as he stepped inside.
"I always do before something important," I replied, closing the door behind him.
He set the bag down carefully and glanced at me. "Good. Means you're taking it seriously."
He unzipped the garment bag and revealed the dress. It was black, with some red stripes , making it more appealing softly and delicate but elegantly but not the kind that swallowed light—soft silk that caught it gently, elegant without being loud. I reached out, fingers brushing the fabric.
"This won't raise eyebrows," I said quietly.
"That's the point," Liam replied. "Suspicious is memorable. You don't want to be memorable."
" And why didn't you send another person,it's so unlike of you to do things yourself and am sure that there are some couriers in the headquarters but you choose to come all alone. What are you up to, boss?" I asked standing on my ground looking up at him, crossing my arms on my waistline. Pouting my lips just to match his annoying goofy ass.
" Nothing really,am just taking care of you,l wouldn't wish anything bad to happen to you no matter what. You know me,Nyx..." He softly said somehow stepping forward to me.
" Guess that's true, so turn around so that l could change and don't think of anything funny,okay?" I said and then touched him buy the shoulders and made him turn around.
I changed while he looked away, the room filling with the soft rustle of fabric. The dress fit like it had been made for me—clean lines, long sleeves, open back just enough to feel daring but controlled. When I stepped back into view, Liam finally looked.
He let out a low breath. And immediately hide the smirl l sw won his face. " you look amazing my agent." He grinned.
I tilted my head. "Amazing as what?"
"Ohh do you want me to tell you that you look beautiful now. " He asked again stepping toward me.
" Okay okay, maybe that was much, so hem tell me do l look convincing? " I changed the direction of the question.
"Convincing as someone who belongs in a room full of dangerous people, yeah you do." he said honestly.
He handed me the small case next. Inside were pearl earrings—simple, understated. He held one up. "Microcom's in here. If you need me, press twice. Don't talk unless you have to."
"And the blade?" I asked.
"Already stitched in," he said. "Left side. Inner seam. You'll feel it if you need it."
I nodded, meeting his gaze. "Any last rules?"
He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Yeah.
Don't try to save the world tonight. Just observe. And also have a little fun, l don't want you to bitter always. Okay..?"he said touching my shoulders and looked straight to my green eyes meeting hus brown deep soft gaze he always had, whenever l was around him.
" Okay no problem boss,you can count on me always."
I didn't promise anything.
The car was already waiting when we stepped outside—long, black, unmarked, the kind that blended into shadows rather than traffic. The driver stood by the door, face neutral, posture rigid, eyes forward as if he'd been carved there. He didn't ask questions. He never did.
Liam opened the back door for me, his hand briefly brushing my sleeve as I slid inside. He followed, settling beside me, close enough that I could feel the quiet tension in his shoulders. The door shut with a soft, final thud, sealing us into a world of tinted glass and low engine hum.
"Remember," Liam murmured, barely louder than the car itself, "tonight you're not you."
I nodded, fingers tightening around the small clutch in my lap—the only thing grounding me. The driver pulled away smoothly, the city lights stretching into blurred lines as we moved farther from my place and closer to the unknown.
The invitation lay between us, its embossed letters catching the dim interior light. The venue—isolated, private, exclusive. Exactly the kind of place secrets liked to gather.
As the city thinned and the road curved toward the hills, Liam's reflection met mine in the darkened window. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
But before we got there he first went back to the headquarters .
Liam stopped the car a few streets away from the venue, far enough to avoid attention but close enough that nothing felt rushed. The engine idled softly, the city lights reflecting off the windshield in blurred streaks.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"This is where I get off," he said finally, unbuckling his seatbelt.
I nodded, adjusting the clasp of my purse, feeling the hidden weight of what I carried beneath silk and calm. "You heading straight back to HQ?"
"Yeah," he replied, opening the door. "I'll be watching from a distance. You won't see me—but I'll be there."
I looked at him then, really looked at him. "If anything goes wrong—"
"I know," he interrupted gently. "I'll pull you out."
I gave him a small smile. "You always say that."
"And I always mean it," he said, returning the smile before stepping out of the car.
He closed the door softly and leaned down to the window. "Remember—Elara Vale. You're not an agent tonight. You're a guest."
"I know," I said quietly. "Thanks, Liam."
He straightened, giving me a brief nod before walking away, his figure disappearing into the dim street where another vehicle waited to take him back to headquarters.
The drive to the venue felt surreal. The city shifted around me—crowded streets gave way to wider roads, then long, silent stretches lined with trees and stone walls.
I glanced at the invitation once, and sighed a little.
When the estate finally came into view, it rose from the darkness like something carved out of power and money. Warm lights glowed behind tall windows, illuminating stone pillars and iron gates. Security was visible but discreet, men positioned with the kind of ease that came from long experience.
The driver pulled up smoothly, handed over the invitation without hesitation, and stepped out of the car.
The doors opened for me.
And just like that, the night shifted—the driver crossed the threshold for me, preparation into the heart of the mission, alone, composed, and exactly where I was meant to be,was all l could think of.
At the entrance, a guard glanced at the list, then at me.
"Miss Vale," he said politely, stepping aside.
"Welcome."
Inside, the banquet unfolded in soft music and low conversation. Crystal glasses, tailored suits, gowns that whispered wealth. I moved through the room slowly, unhurried, accepting a glass of champagne I didn't drink, smiling when required, listening more than I spoke.
My eyes were only looking for the main target of this family and that was the Alexander Qinn, he was the older one so it nade sense that he know much about what his father does.
But it seemed like he was out if sight and l could only stand most one table which was somehow in the middle making it easier for me to look for him in the crowd.
It wasn't long after l felt a sudden change in the crowd.
Then I felt it, .
That shift in the air when someone important entered.
Across the room, surrounded by quiet attention, stood Alexander Qinn.
When I first saw him across the room, my eyes couldn't help but take him in. He was tall—easily taller than anyone around him—and his presence was impossible to ignore.
His hair was black, streaked with silver in a way that somehow made him look both sharp and effortless at the same time. I noticed how it caught the light whenever he moved, like shadows and steel woven together.
His eyes… deep grey, almost like storm clouds before a rain, scanning the room with a calm, measured intensity. Not cold in the careless way some people were, but deliberate, precise.
He wasn't staring at anyone in particular—just observing—but it felt like he could see everything, even the smallest details no one else would notice.
He wore a black suit, expensive without needing to announce it, cut perfectly to fit his physically fit frame. Everything about him screamed control, elegance, and danger without ever trying too hard.
There was a chill to him, a kind of cold that kept people at a distance. I couldn't read him—couldn't tell if it was arrogance, caution, or something darker—but I could feel it. Like he was a world of secrets wrapped in human skin, and no one had a map to it yet.
And somehow… I didn't want to look away. This was starting to get more interstate than l thought it would.
He looked exactly like the photograph—and nothing like it.
For a moment, his eyes met mine.
Just a second.
No surprise. No reaction. Just curiosity—brief and unreadable.
I broke the contact first, reminding myself why I was there.
This wasn't fascination.
This wasn't intrigue.
This was reconnaissance.
And somewhere beneath the silk, the blade rested against my side—quiet, patient—waiting for the moment when observation would turn into action.